Fate-and her husband. Once despised as the “Puppet King,” a tool of the Knights of Neraka, Gilthas had left a soft, comfortable life to lead the remnants of the elven nations across mountains and desert to find refuge in Khur. No one called him puppet now. The coalition of Qualinesti, Silvanesti, and Kagonesti who had abandoned their woodlands was six years old, and still as fragile as a hummingbird’s egg. Holding them together was Gilthas, Speaker of the Sun and Stars.

The din of the minotaurs’ approach was deafening. They marched in a series of tight triangular formations, apex forward, shaping their famed “dragontooth” attack. An enemy facing this battle line found itself squeezed into close combat on two sides. These minotaur dragonteeth chewed up and destroyed entire armies. But Kerianseray didn’t intend to play the game their way today.

She looked to Baranthalonus and nodded. He gave the order. As one, five hundred Silvanesti archers-the best remaining in all the world-rose to their feet, flocked arrows, and loosed them into the air. Kerianseray closed her eyes for an instant and whispered one word.

“Gilthas.”

Chapter 1

For centuries Khur was thought of as an empty land, devoid of life or livelihood, containing only sand, stone, and sun. In truth the desert was home to many living things, each adapted to the stark environment. Beneath the sand dwelt creatures tenacious and frequently venomous. Above ground grew grass like wire, thorny vines, and waxen shrubs. By night the desert rose bloomed, source of the rarest perfume in the world. The scent was sweet, but the petals of the plant were deadly poison. Such was the life of the land of Khur.